A luxurious, penthouse-sized reminder of how badly I’d fucked up.
I had everything I thought I wanted.
The silence, the control, the space. And somehow, it had never felt emptier than it did now.
It’s a shame, really.
Because I know there’s no ‘another chance’ for us. No reset button. No easy fix. I crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed, burned a bridge that can’t be rebuilt.
And for what?
To prove that I didn’t care? To protect myself from feeling too much?
Now I’d give anything to feel that too much again: her laugh, her scolding texts, even her shy little glares when I said something dumb.
But all I’d got left was this empty penthouse and the memory of how it felt when she was here, when she made it warm, when she made me warm. And fuck, I’d ruin myself all over again just to have that light back for one more night.
Knock.
I turned upon hearing that.
Then again, soft, hesitant.
I blinked at the door. Nobody knocked on my door. Ever. Not Alex, not the delivery guys, no one.
I stood up, half-expecting it to be maintenance or someone who got the wrong floor.
But when I pulled it open—
There she was.
Aurora.
Standing in the hall with her bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly messy from the wind.
For a second, I thought I was imagining it. My brain filled the quiet with a hallucination I actually wanted to believe. But then she looked up, those tired, gentle eyes meeting mine, and the air in my lungs stopped.
Just like that, the place felt alive again.
The sterile air, the white walls, the empty quiet—it all softened the second she was there. That strange, invisible warmth she carried everywhere spilt straight into the doorway.
She lifted her phone with her good hand and typed something. I leaned down to read.
Saving my electricity bill, so I’ll rely on your place for now.
I didn’t even realise my jaw had gone slack until she tilted her head, waiting for an answer.
God. Of course she’d phrase it like that, casual, practical, like she wasn’t doing me a mercy just by standing there. Like shewasn’t single-handedly bringing this dead apartment back to life.
I stepped aside, quietly, my throat too tight to say anything that wouldn’t sound wrong.
“Come in,” I managed, barely above a whisper.
She walked past me, slow, cautious, the familiar scent of her shampoo following.
Her bag brushed my arm, light but grounding. And I swear, I felt something inside me unclench. The hum of the city faded outside. The lights in the penthouse glowed warmer somehow.
Maybe she didn’t come back for me. Maybe it was just for the electricity. But even so... she was here.
